


Como esas flores que crecen en el asfalto agrietado

by Ecchymose



Category: La casa de papel (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14116860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecchymose/pseuds/Ecchymose
Summary: Monica's point of view in 01x09 as she starts developing feelings for Denver (the nap scene and the bathroom scene).





	Como esas flores que crecen en el asfalto agrietado

**Author's Note:**

> I've binge-watched La Casa de Papel in a few days and became obsessed with Denver & Monica. This is my contribution to their pairing, I hope this fandom will grow, both because this is a fucking great show that deserves to be watched and known, and because I want to read as many stories as possible about my babies ! I hope you enjoy it :)

When Monica woke up, the air around her was so humid, she could feel the pearls of sweat running down her skin. She needed some fresh air. She started dreaming about a meadow surrounded by tall trees, the cool wind caressing her skin, the feeling of freedom exhilarating, the big open space in front of her, empty and all hers. That would be nice, to be free and more than everything, to be in some place cool. Her throat was dry, she couldn’t breathe and every breath she took was too hot. How nice it would be to take a cold shower right now. She needed water. 

She started crawling towards the water bottles next to Denver’s sleeping form. He looked so innocent. She remembered when she was a child how her father would throw some water at her with a hose whenever he was washing the car. It was a happy memory, filled with laughter and candor. Her life had gone downhill since then. She was the mistress of a married man, pregnant with him for fuck’s sake ! She had been shot in the leg by a robber and was trapped in a cellar, pretending to be dead to the world. If only it ended there. But the truth was, some part of her actually enjoyed being here. Not that the place was particularly pleasant, god no, it was way too hot, and she was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. Not because of the place, no, but because of who was with here. 

She was ashamed to admit it, even to herself, but she got fond of Denver. He wasn’t particularly bright, but he got this inner kindness that radiated from him and shone through his big and honest smile. He always had been kind to her. First when he convinced her not to get an abortion, sharing with her some intimate facts about him, making himself vulnerable. Then when he saved her life, refusing to kill her. And once again when he hid her in this cellar and took care of her, not only physically but also mentally. He tended to her wound, always held her with care, brought her food and water, but he also made her smile. In this terrifying situation, he managed to make her laugh. She felt at ease with him. She could talk to him freely. She could be herself. Damn, he let his gun on the floor unattended and she didn’t even think once about stealing it and threatening him. She stopped seeing him as a threat to her life. She wasn’t completely stupid though. She knew it was a dangerous situation and that he wasn’t innocent. He had come to rob this place, had taken dozens of persons as hostages, and was in possession of heavy weapons that could kill. But something about him made her heart melt for him. His eyes were kind and his smile infectious. She couldn’t help but smile too when he did. 

As she reached for the bottle, her gaze settled on his face and she could feel the proximity between their bodies. It was intoxicating. She could feel the temperature of his skin, his soft breath against her cheek. Her hand, as if it had a mind of its own, delicately touch his skin, caressing his hand, his pectoral, his face. He was hot and sweaty too but that didn’t bother her. He was soft, and she craved for more contact. Her eyes landed on his lips and all of a sudden, she felt desire in her loins. It was like a wave of flames, setting her whole body on fire. Sexual attraction. Deep and powerful. Her own lips were tingling, craving to feel his mouth against hers. He moved, breaking her hypnosis and she was stunned by her own actions. As he rolled onto his side, she quickly grabbed a bottle before crawling back as if she was escaping from a fire. Except, she was the one burning. 

Monica took a gulp of water, hoping the fresh liquid would put out the fire inside of her. It scared her. She couldn’t feel this way. She shouldn’t. It wasn’t right. She needed to build a barrier, be cold to him. They couldn’t be friends, let alone more than that. Her desire needed to be shut down. She was putting some mental barriers up when he woke up. Her heart clenched as he mentioned she was the first woman that stayed by his side while he slept but she couldn’t let her affection towards him show. Her face was severe when she spoke to him. Barked at him really when all he did was trying to help her. She couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty, especially seeing the surprise etched on his face and the shame overwhelming him. For a second, she considered apologizing, grabbing his hand and telling him she appreciated everything he had done for her. She wanted to express the tenderness she felt towards him, by a touch, by a word, as he showed her his vulnerability by admitting he was a little bit lost too. She couldn’t stay angry at him, not when he was the one apologizing. She knew he knew his offer to take her to the bathroom was dangerous. But he did it anyway. He put her comfort before the risk of being caught. 

They both nearly paid the price of her caprice. When Berlin opened the toilet’s door she was in, she felt her heart stop for a second. The minute during which she wasn’t able to see what was going on, was the worst. She didn’t know what was happening. She realized as Berlin threatened her with a gun, that she was as scared for Denver as much as she was for herself. And she was as relieved to be safe from danger to see him out of it too. As he came closer to her, protecting her with his body and took her in his arms to carry her, she came to this conclusion : after facing death twice, she didn’t care if it seemed wrong to fall in love with Denver. Because as he touched her and reassured her, damn, it felt fucking right to her. Their love would be like those flowers that grow in the cracked pavement.


End file.
